1194, Sherwood Forest, Nottinghamshire

It stood calmly in their way as the bandit archers streamed past. Seven feet tall, a giant swathed in dark robes and a cowl that hid his face in deep shadow.

The sight of the figure caused their charge to falter, and Liam heard the men curse under their breath.

‘The Hood!’ yelled one of the younger soldiers. ‘God help us, it’s the Hood!’ He dropped his sword and shield.

‘’Tis but a man in old cloth!’ Eddie snarled angrily. ‘Pick up yer weapon!’ But the young boy was already gone, scrambling off the trail, through brambles and ferns, and very soon lost from sight.

Their charge was halted now. Just ten nervous men standing in a forest trail, cowering beneath shields. The occasional arrow coming from behind, and the solitary hooded figure ahead of them, blocking their way.

Eddie turned to his men. ‘Come on, ye fools!’ But Liam could hear even in his voice a wavering uncertainty. It might just be a mortal man … but it was still a huge mortal man, and in his hands he held a broadsword that glinted sunlight as it swung casually back and forth.

The figure suddenly began to stride towards them. The way it moved – long, even, regular strides, arms calmly down by the sides, no sense of flinching or cowering – reminded Liam of Bob. Reminded him of the economical and purposeful way he moved. A memory flashed through his mind, a memory that seemed to come from another lifetime: Bob calmly moving through a prison camp, executing every guard in his way, a pulse rifle blazing in each hand.

Liam reached for the discarded sword and shield. Fumbling and dropping the sword nervously so that he had to pick it up again.

‘Just run!’ he hissed at Eddie and the other men, suddenly certain he knew what was approaching them. ‘You can’t beat this thing! Just do your best to get past it!’

Several of the men took Liam’s word for it, dropped their shields and swords and ran for the treeline either side of the track. But Eddie and four others remained, bunching up close together around Liam, presenting a shield wall to the figure.

‘Run, sire!’ shouted Eddie over his shoulder. ‘We’ll hold him!’

The hooded figure suddenly broke into a run and covered the last ten yards in a silent sprint. He collided with Eddie and his men, bowling them backwards. A roundhouse sweep of his broadsword lopped one of the men’s arms off at the elbow, sending it spinning into the air, hand still clasped round the sword-hilt.

One of the other men thrust his blade at the side of the Hooded Man. The black cloak collapsed inwards, and Liam heard a clunk as the blade met something hard beneath.

The hooded figure reached with a gloved hand for the blade and snapped it with a sharp twist, tossing the broken metal off into the woods. It cocked its head for a moment, studying the man holding nothing but the broken hilt of his sword in his hands … and Liam would swear blind later that he saw the figure wag its finger at the man before picking him up by the throat and hurling him like nothing more than a bundle of twigs off into the trees.

Its head turned back and beneath the shadow of the hood Liam sensed its gaze was locked specifically on him.

Eddie’s remaining two men broke and ran, leaving him alone in the middle of the trail beside Liam. The hooded figure strode past Eddie as if he simply wasn’t there.

‘Sire! Run!’

Liam realized the thing had fixed on him for some reason. He did as Eddie said, dropped the shield and sword he’d picked up and backed quickly away towards the treeline. He saw Eddie lunge with his sword at the hooded figure’s back, ramming it hard into the space between its shoulder-blades.

The figure lurched in response – and Liam thought he heard some sort of wheezing whine come from beneath the hood. Eddie’s blade must have found some chink in the armour beneath. The figure spun round to face him, the blade of the handle protruding from its back.

The response was a savage thrust with the broadsword that punched a hole through the jagged and pockmarked remains of Eddie’s shield, the long blade continuing on into the man’s chest.

Liam watched Eddie gasp, then collapse slowly to his knees.

‘Stuff this!’ He then turned and ran off the track and into the woods, charging through low branches and brambles that whipped and stung his cheeks. His heavy leather boots stumbled over roots and hummocks in the ground; his rasping breath and the snap of twigs and branches beneath him seemed to fill the silent woods around him. He realized the racket he was making as he scrambled away from that thing was giving him away … but he couldn’t bring himself to slow down.

He ran for what he guessed was another minute before he finally stopped and turned to look behind him. He expected to see the wraithlike fluttering outline of black robes weaving past trees and through brambles hot on his heels; instead, the woods were still, empty.

Liam gasped air into his lungs, doubling over and dry-heaving from the sudden exertion, the burn of nerves. He spat phlegm on to the ground and straightened up on legs that felt like jelly.

All he had a chance to notice was the blur of something in motion towards him. Then he was seeing a world of speckled white.